The Problem with a Picture

Sometime I just have an urge to write.

I hope that's a sign that this is what I was meant to do - that someday I'll be successful because of my writing. However I often internally debate if whether or not what I have to say is that ... important.

So sometimes I hesitate, waiting for the perfect moment for all of my thoughts to "come together."

"I have a request for a blog post," my younger sister Jessica said to me today.

Oh boy, I thought. Here we go.

Strangely enough, her suggestion was exactly what I had been thinking about writing about. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but my sister is beyond awesome. I'm not surprised that she was thinking of me and an idea to help me succeed. Honestly, she's the best.

Anyway, let me back up a little.

This past weekend, I traveled to Philadelphia to see Jordan. I was pretty nervous, considering trips never go too well for me. However, this time I tried not to psych myself out.

I went through the week doing everything as normal. I ate healthy, exercised every week day knowing that I wouldn't over the weekend, and packed a few (but not overwhelming amount) of healthy snacks for the road. I didn't think much of it at the time, but this ended up being the secret balance I think I've been searching for.

When Friday rolled around I was feeling good, content, and ready to tackle being away from my routine. Though I still didn't hype myself up.

One moment at a time Emily, I thought. You can do it.

Having a strong week, helped me have a strong weekend. I survived.

I can happily say I made it through the trip - and that it was the first trip in three years that I didn't feel like I totally lost control.

However, I refused to accept this until I was driving home. As soon as Jordan's mom dropped me off at work, where my car was, I stopped at school to go for a run with Jess. Slightly obsessive? Maybe. But it can't hurt to do the things that make us happy. Coming home and getting right back into the things that make me feel good made such a difference.

Perhaps those are the "perfect" moments, but when you're truly enjoying them, you don't notice them as that.

Perhaps success is so unfamiliar that we pin it as something else - such as being obsessive.

When I was finally driving home, I allowed myself say "congratulations." I turned up the music, did a little dance, and hardcore rocked out until I pulled in my driveway.

Yet, I was still uber worried that it was too good to be true. For so long I've pictured success. I've pictured being "recovered," not giving a second thought about eating a piece of cheesecake, and giving speeches in schools to girls about how not to lose themselves in worrying about body image.

I've pictured talking about being bulimia as something I "used" to be - but certainly not something that defined me. Yet in so many ways, it has and it does. It has been a part of me, is a part of me, and always will be. Instead of being ashamed, I'm learning to be proud.

But back to the story.

Unfortunately, the unthinkable then happened. (Sorry in advance for the dramatics, just bear with me).

I started going through pictures from the weekend - and holy cow, I thought I looked huge (no pun intended). Not just kind of huge, but literally huge. 

My heart dropped and I could have cried. I wanted to run home and burn the pair of jeans I was wearing in the picture. Unfortunately I have two of the same pair, so I was ready to create a large fire and drown my sorrows in smores.

Only I was at work and couldn't do any of those things, so I forced myself to pull it together.

How could this be possible? I had just achieved success! I made it through a trip without binging and purging! I had felt amazing!

Let's focus on the felt.

Why did I suddenly feel less amazing? Because of a stupid picture? How far have I truly come?

Far enough to tell myself to snap the eff out of it. Far enough to calmly remind myself that it was just a picture, that how I felt mattered more than how I thought I looked, that I had the best weekend and being captured at a bad angle shouldn't ruin that.

And maybe it wasn't a bad angle. Maybe the way my thighs look in said picture is to-scale and maybe not. Regardless, I felt success and it was exactly what I wanted it to be. Just as glorious and peaceful as I'd always imagined. I can't wait for more moments of that feeling. I'm convinced success isn't a one-time-thing, it's something we continually work towards, constantly aiming for the next level.

Now back to what Jess requested I blog about - wearing clothes that fit.

"I feel so much better when my pants fit me correctly," Jess explained to me, "Ya know, when I'm not pulling them up constantly or squeezing into them."

Who care if they're a size larger than we'd like. If they feel good, that's what counts.

On my way home from work today, I turned the music back up and sang along to one of my favorite Jack's Mannequin songs - bringing myself back to the moment I felt success in yesterday. My stomach felt bloated from the dinner I just ate and it took everything in me to fight the urge to pull my pants up around my tummy and love handles.

No Emily, I thought. Feel it. Is it really that bad? It's your body and you're amazing. This is you. What more do you need?

As I drove through the dark, I had a moment of realization.

I decided I won't throw those pants away because a) They're jeggings and therefore super comfy 2) I do have two pairs because I originally loved them c) a picture can sometimes be powerful but in this case, it shouldn't be and d) some people don't even have pants so why the hell am I worried about how a pair might make me look?

The last point I grasped from Jess. A bunch of posts will be coming about her soon, I think I'm still waiting for the right moment. Yet she's too amazing for me to not share some thoughts sooner rather than later.

Over her Spring Break Jess volunteered in New Orleans, helping to rebuild homes and areas that were destroyed by Hurricane Katrina.

Don't even get me started on how cool that was - again more is coming. Anyway, her stories from New Orleans remind me every day that it's important to remember what we do have. That it's necessary to keep what makes us feel good. That our feelings can make or break us, so it's our choice how we adjust to them.

Thank you Jess, for reminding me of that today. That it's so vital to love what we have - whether it's family, friends, moments, pictures, or a pair of jeans for what they are not how they look. That there won't always be perfect moments to write and that what I'm trying to say may not make sense to anyone but me.

And that those un-perfect, simple moments of success are helping me through recovery - giving me the extra-push I need along the way.